Covid Captive

I think I’ve always known that, in the event of being captured, imprisoned or taken hostage, (and this is something I’ve given considerable attention to) I probably wouldn’t be the one who undertakes a gruelling physical regime to keep my pecs tight and my abs toned. I wouldn’t be the inmate doing fifty sit ups or pulling myself up by the door frame. (See, I don’t even know what that’s called! Pull ups?)  I’d be much more likely to spend my day loitering at the cell entrance, doing my best to seductively lean up against the bars trying to flirt with the officers, and guessing what everyone else is in for.

Having said that, we have ordered a yoga ball, some resistance bands and a skipping rope.  The stretch bands are yellow, red and blue.  I suspect the different colours have something to do with their length and/or level of stretchiness, but I have no intention of confirming this theory.  The yoga ball is purple. Very nice. I’d think about giving it a go if it had ears and I could cling on while I bounce up and down the footpath. I loved my orange space hopper, and spent hours on it, imagining myself racing across desert dunes, or charging through battle fields, or being chased across the moors. That was until pogos came along, and then the space hopper was relegated to the back of the shed, along with the bag of jacks, the hopscotch chalk and the cowboy pistols which my brothers used to love shooting me with. (The ones with the paper roll that got threaded through and made a sulphur smelling bang!).  I was never really a barbie girl.

So, suffice to say, physical activity is not what’s filling my day.  I am walking the dog twice a day, but it’s more of a stroll and a dander than any actual aerobic excercise, and we are of course required to stop at every tree and bush so he can leave his mark.  Ordinarily that would drive me mad; I’d be anxious to get my steps in, and impatient having to wait for the dog to wee on every weed we pass. But these days, I really don’t mind taking half an hour to go around the block.  I’m in no rush. 

I am however, very very bored.

I’ve had some great ideas for projects that will keep me busy and productive, but there are some very real challenges to the ones that I’ve identified so far:

• Knitting: there was a time I was a pretty expert knitter and I’ve put together some impressive items over the years, like the Thomas the Tank Engine jumper I knitted for my boyfriend of the moment (this was a VERY long time ago), but we’d split up by the time I finished it so I got to keep it! I’ve knitted christening shawls
• and baby blankets; summer tops and
• winter woollies; hats and shawls. I figured this would be a productive past-time, so I pulled out all the boxes of wool I’ve been hoarding. I will start to actually knit something just as soon as I’ve sorted the four hundred balls of wool by colour and weight. It’s all in the preparation, right? I’m almost there. Any day now. Really.

• Emptying clothes cupboards: well, there’s just no point is there? I mean, I’d LOVE to get stuck in, to be ruthless about all those clothes I never wear and don’t need and will never again manage to squeeze into, but the charity shops are closed, so what would I do with all the things I’d want to give away? I’d just be creating another mess wouldn’t I? I’m totally up for this, absolutely on it, just as soon as I can, but unfortunately it would ultimately be counter productive. Such a pity.

• Baking: lots of people seem to have taken up baking as a way of feeling purposeful. I suppose if you don’t normally bother your arse then I can see how that might work. I suspect it wouldn’t have the same impact for those of us who pride ourselves on creating home baked produce all year round, not that I’m criticising or anything. And then there are the shortages aren’t there? Eggs have been difficult to get, and as for self-raising flour? Well, you might as well be looking for gold-dust. I have seen a couple of well stocked shops, but I would hate to deprive someone else of these hard-got ingredients, someone who might need them more than me. You know, someone whose day has no purpose whatsoever? They need it more than me.

• Cleaning out the shed: I must confess that the shed has become a bit of a dumping ground of late. In addition to the usual gardening equipment, there’s a box of broken Christmas lights; two stacks of left over floor tiles; a shattered side mirror for the car; a baby seat (my children are now 18); the last dogs manky bed; a long out-of-use strimmer; a bike with only one wheel, and several (countless actually) empty bottles. That’s the stuff I can see anyway. I can’t get to the back of the shed, so its very possible there’s more shite loitering between the folding chairs and the shovel. Now there’s nothing I’d like more than to get my sleeves rolled up and sort this mess out, to clear out the rubbish, and get the space spick and span; wouldn’t that be so fulfilling? Absolutely, yes, totally agree. Sadly, the dumps are closed, so much as I’d love to progress this one, it’s just not possible without somewhere to take the damn stuff.

Staying busy during lock down really is quite tough, isn’t it?